


When I'm speaking, it's the voice of someone else

by yellowteapots



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, band!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:58:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowteapots/pseuds/yellowteapots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fairness, they aren’t exactly selling out world tours, yet, but Harry thinks that if they find the missing piece to the puzzle that they might actually get somewhere. The missing piece comes in the form of a bass player and they've been auditioning people but no-one's quite right and they're still looking before they make their debut EP. Harry, whilst practising with the band he has with his friends, breaks the strings on his guitar and has to go to the music shop to get some new ones before their latest gig but he never would have guessed that his impromptu visit to the music shop would lead him to find what the band, and what he, was missing.</p><p>Louis works at a shop but wants to get out and focus on his own music and when he sees Harry, he thinks that he should audition and it all goes from there really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm speaking, it's the voice of someone else

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless and self-indulgent band!AU and if you look hard enough you might spot some Ziall. The title is from Broken Strings and this just happened and turned into this. So I hope you like it - Lucy x

They’d been a band since they were fifteen; Harry, Liam, Niall and Zayn. It had been a way to pass the time to begin with, none of them really taking it seriously, and they were just using the music as a distraction from school work and nagging parents. It was easy then, not really giving a damn if they were popular or not, because it meant that they didn’t have to compete for gigs at the few decent pubs and clubs in the area and their only problems were making sure they were all in tune and were keeping quiet enough so as not to piss off any of their neighbours.

Their parents were all supportive and Harry’s mum even let them practice in the little bungalow at the bottom of their garden whenever they wanted, and it was a safe enough distance from the house that she could have a quiet cup of tea without having to worry about getting a headache from the steady drum beat. It took a while for them to reach their peak, to be good enough to be considered a _real band,_ and for them to find their sound. And finding their sound was exactly what they did over the summer. They spent hours, days, weeks practising until they had blisters on their fingers and the chords patterns and lyrics were imprinted so deeply into each of their memories they could have played in their sleep (you know, if people actually did that).

Harry knew they were good, they all did. Maybe not good enough to sell out arenas but even then, at the tender age of fifteen, they had a fair few fans who tirelessly watched the covers that Niall posted for them on YouTube. Whenever they could convince someone to let them play for an hour or so they’d jump at the chance and play their hearts out for the love of the music, grateful for the chance to play. That was enough for them then, Harry thought, but now it was different.

Now they were nineteen and still a band. Kite Bandit were still popular, even got paid for gigs now – they were in demand, but Harry knew there was still something missing. They had Liam, strong and dependable, on the drums keeping them together, Niall on Guitar, fluid and creative, Zayn on Keys, melodic and mysterious – or so he liked to think, and then there was Harry who sang, singing out the words he couldn’t say with conviction. They fit together so well, they always had and probably always would, and had managed to scrape enough money together – taking any spare shifts that were going - between them to actually record a few songs and get some stuff out there but before they could they needed a fuller sound, the rocky edgier tones that were missing, in short; they needed a bassist.

When he was singing, expressing himself through the music like he just couldn’t seem to do with words, he wanted the bass line to be dependable and strong, he wanted it to connect with him and to fit so seamlessly with his gravelly vocals that they couldn’t be picked apart because they just complimented the other so well that it was just _right_.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to find someone either, each of them had tried handing out posters and flyers for auditions but no one seemed right, none of the bassists they’d seen _fit_ with them and it just didn’t sound right when they played together. Harry thought some of them were great – really talented even – but what they needed was someone who just jelled so well with each of the other boys that they could second guess where they were going within seconds and bounce of the energy of each of the others and none of the bassists they’d seen so far did.

-:-

They had a practice today, at The Black Lamb - one of the pubs the boys played regularly enough to know the names of the bar staff and, in Nialls case, get as many free pints as they could manage – and Harry was running a bit late, okay so half an hour late. It was kind enough of Paul to have given the lads the gig in the first place – Friday and Saturday night billing too, the best that were available – and considering the generous offer to let Kite Bandit practice there whenever it wasn’t working hours, guilt fluttered in his stomach as he imagined Liam’s pouty, disapproving face sat behind his drum kit.

The flat he shared with Niall wasn’t too far away from the pub so, slinging his bag over his shoulder, picking up his guitar case and making sure he locked the door behind him, he ran the whole way there nearly knocking over an old lady with his flailing limbs as he squeezed himself between her and the wall of the post office. If he’d had the time (which he didn’t) Harry would have stopped and apologised but he just continued jogging down the road, trying to catch his breath, as she shouted something about the youths of today not respecting their elders.

“What time do you call this?” was the first thing he heard before he was even half way through the door. He didn’t need to look up to recognise the voice, but he did anyway and was met with Liam’s scowl and his friend tapping his wrist where a wristwatch should be.

“I er sorry Li, overslept. Some tosser,” he looked pointedly at Niall, who was sheepishly tuning his guitar in the corner of the room, as he extracted his own guitar from its case, “didn’t like the jingle from my alarm clock and stormed in at some ungodly hour yesterday morning and threw it against the wall.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “Whatever Haz, just get over here so we can start yeah.”

Muttering “It’s true” under his breath he tossed his bag onto the bar, before hopping up onto the small stage at the back of the pub, taking his place behind the mic stand. He adjusted it slightly, cursing whoever used it the night before for being so damn short, and picked up his guitar, turning around signalling to the others that he was ready.

The drum beat came in after Liam’s count down, then Zayn came in with the keyboard using one of these new settings he’d managed to come up with. Niall struck the first few chords and Harry took the mic in his hand and began to sing the first line of their song. They played like that, blending together, until the chorus where Harry came in on his own guitar but as he went to play his first string of notes the noise came out all flat and he remembered that, in his rush, he’d forgotten to tune it.

“Shit sorry lads; give me a second would you?” Harry jumped down from the stage, taking the guitar with him as he perched on the edge of one of the bar stools.

“’s all right Haz, take your time yeah.” Zayn said, pulling out his ear bud and heading behind the bar helping himself to a coke.

“I hope you’re going to pay for that,” Liam mumbled, twiddling nervously with his drum sticks – a habit that Harry learnt meant that he was getting stressed out.

Instead of replying, Zayn just hummed and chucked a coke over to Niall who popped the lid and took a long gulp. The drum sticks started to get more erratic between Liam’s fingers and Harry rolled his eyes at how easy it was to wind up their drummer.

Twiddling with the machine heads, tightening and loosening the strings, he let his fingers drift over the strings trying to find the desired pitch. All of them seemed fine except the last treble string and Harry kept tightening it but it just wouldn’t tune.

Harry felt a weight plop down on the stool next to him. “D’ya need a hand?”

“Nah, thanks Nialler, but I think I’ve almost got it.” He replied turning the head just a little further than his probably should have.”

“I don’t think you want to tighten that any more mate,” Niall began but too late, because the string snapped just as Harry was about to tell him that “I know what I’m damn well doing thank you very much”.

Idiot. That’s what he was, on an immeasurable scale.

“Oh for fucks sake!”

All their heads whipped around and three pairs of eyes looked, with raised eyebrows, at Liam who was turning a rather fetching shade of red.

“Sorry guys I er don’t know what came over me there…maybe we could get back to practice without Harry’s guitar part?” he blushed.

They all nodded and got back to getting lost in the music, trying out new riffs and tricks to change up the few songs they’d written themselves to keep the Friday night crowd happy. Zayn wanted them to try out the new song that he had been working on with Niall for the last few weeks between their shifts at one of the restaurants across on the other side of the town but try as they might, they couldn’t seem to do the song justice and deep down Harry knew what they were missing, the bassist.

Before they were about to leave, Liam pulled Harry back and handed him a wodge of neon coloured A5 posters. “See if you can leave a few of these at the music shop, we really need that bassist, I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“Yeah Haz, just flutter your eyelashes at them and crack out the dimples and they’ll be putty in your hands. Maybe you could even wear that flower crown that girl threw at you last week during our set?” Niall winked and Harry made a mental note not to cook him any food that night.

He looked to Zayn for help but only got a “Lock up your sons, Harry Styles is going out on the town.”

“It’s only the music shop you twat, the same one we all go to, it’s not like I’m going to the Ritz.” Rolling his eyes, Harry shoved the flyers into his bag and tugged on Niall’s arm, pulling him out of the pub and off down the road towards the apartment.

-:-

Harry could hear movement out in the apartment - a succession of bumps and the clattering of plates being (haphazardly) placed into the dishwasher - probably Niall on his way out to his early shift at the restaurant, which was probably what caused him to wake, the sun light filtering through a crack in the curtains making him tug the quilt over his eyes in an attempt to protect whatever sight he had left after being partially blinded. In a somewhat vain attempt to try and get back off to sleep, Harry knew he could never really drift back off once he’d been awoken; he shuffled across the bed away from the light and turned his back away from the window.

Unfortunately, though, he managed to miscalculate the space between him and the edge of the bed and rolled gracelessly off the bed, landing in a tangle of his muchtoolong limbs and bed sheets. Ouch. Even though he suspected his bum might be a bit bruised, Harry thought it was lucky he didn’t end up falling on top of his guitar which was propped up against his bedside table – which was devoid of an alarm clock because _Niall_.

Speaking – or, well, thinking he supposed – about his guitar reminded him that he had to make the short trip to the music shop across town. Pulling on fresh underwear a half clean pair of jeans and a questionable white t-shirt (well it was okay because no one had actually seen him wear it for a while, he just hadn’t got round to washing it yet), he pocketed his wallet and whatever change he could find around his room before pulling on his coat, picking up his bag and heading out the door, not bothering to lock it because he’d only be gone for about twenty minutes and what harm could realistically be done.

Deciding on a walk instead of catching the bus – because, let’s face it, the prices were really much too high for a boy in a band who worked in a coffee shop just to scrap enough money together for rent – Harry was glad of his coat, pulling up the collar as the wind tried to nip and bite at his neck. It was still cold out though it was coming towards the end of spring, the trees that lined the pavements were just beginning to flourish, and he found himself wishing for a bit of proper summer weather where they might yet a few out door gigs and maybe if they were lucky a few opening sets at a student festival or two.

There weren’t many of the big mainstream shops in the outskirts of the town where the boys lived but Harry and the other Kite Bandit lads were glad of Carousel, the old music and vinyl shop next to the library. It wasn’t too big, but it had everything they’d needed so far and was like a little piece of heaven nestled amongst the charity shops and cafes. If you stood outside long enough, admiring the stock in the front window, the smells from the little bakery opposite would drift across the road and you’d soon find yourself buying a jam doughnut before finally making your way back to Carousel (or at least that’s what Harry found anyway).

Browsing in the window, Harry let his eyes scan over the guitars, saxophones and drum kit that were being displayed, he sighed eyeing up a shiny new acoustic guitar that was way out of his price limit – but a boy could dream right? He pushed open the door, the small bell on the frame tinkling to let whoever was behind the counter know that someone had entered the shop, and took in a deep breath letting the smell of the instruments and sheet music fill his nostrils. And Harry thought it felt a bit like home.

~:~

Louis only got this job because it was his mate’s dad’s place. Maybe he shouldn’t have dropped out of Uni, but it’s not like he even wanted to be there in the first place and at least now he was just a bit closer to the career he always wanted in music. Or that was what he tried to tell himself whilst doing the stock take at the little music shop where he was employed for a few more hours that he’d have liked and a few fewer pounds than perhaps he should have.

But he figures that this is the best he’s likely to get and he supposed that was okay because it really could be worse, he could have sold out and worked in a clothes shop shamelessly flaunting his body for sales (he’s been told that he could do it, you know, if he wanted to), then again it could be better. He was fairly good at it– or maybe it was because he had tattoos, wore band t-shirts and knew his music -selling records and helping (mostly) spotty teens find some sheet music to their favourite pop song or suggesting the best records to a group of giggling girls who, so clearly didn’t care about The Beatles and also, didn’t stand a chance in hell.

There were perks though, he gets a great discount on the old records he likes and any strings or other accessories he might need for his bass – his pride and joy. Louis’d been playing since forever or well for as long as he can remember, and as much as he’d dreamt of going it alone, playing out to crowds who sang back his lyrics whilst screaming his name, but he knew his voice wasn’t strong enough and what he really needed was a band. Besides, he’d much rather hide behind the relative safety of his bass and be a part of _something_ but none of the ones who’d left adverts or cards in the shop were what he was looking for – he didn’t _do_ bubble gum pop.

Enough about that because, well, there were records to be counted and instruments to be retuned and cleaned– some people just don’t understand the little sign in front of the piano that says ‘please don’t play unless you intend to buy’. After about an hour or so with no customers and a somewhat burning need for a cup of tea, so he quickly went out the back and flicked on the kettle. They were running low on teabags so he decided he’d better pop into the Tesco express on the way to work the next morning.

Taking the first sip, Louis heard the bell at the front of the shop ringing so he made his way out of the kitchenette and put his mug down next to the till, settling on the stool. He couldn’t see the face of the boy (man?), only the back of his head. He was all wild chocolate curls that Louis just wanted his run his fingers through – interesting – and by the looks of things the mystery boy would be taller than him – definitely interesting. And perhaps he was a bit more excited than necessary for the boy to make his way over to the counter.

Normally, he would’ve gone over to help but this boy seemed to know what he was looking for. He was in the guitar section, looking through the strings, and Louis let himself wonder about whether or not the boy was in a band. He could imagine it, he looked the type girls would throw themselves at even from the back of his head, and then Louis thought it might be a bit ridiculous to care this much about a stranger when the only thing you’ve seen of him was his rear end. And speaking of rear ends, Guitar Boy had a rather nice one – not that Louis makes a habit of checking out the customers backsides (well only the hot ones).

When he turned around, the boy that is, Louis thought he was having some pretty major heart palpitations. He’d never seen someone who looked so young but still so…so manly. He had dimples the size of pound coins, eyes greener than the leaves blossoming on the trees out in the park and a smile that lit up the whole room. And, Louis had been right before, the boy practically towered over him and that was something that made the shorter boy a bit weak at the knees, but he’d deny it if anyone asked. So yeah, shit, he was screwed.

~:~

Harry knew where to go, heading straight for the back of the shop, and rather enjoyed the scent of tea as he knelt on one knee in front of the racks. He was tempted, extremely tempted, by the shelf of vinyl’s but tore his eyes away forcing himself to shuffle through the sets of strings looking for the right size and length. Several times he had to remind himself that he only had enough money for the strings, and maybe a coffee for the way home, and would tear his eyes odd the records.

As soon as he found the right strings he headed over towards the counter and glanced over at the pin board and saw a handful of other leaflets, like the ones Liam had given him, already pinned up advertising bands and some second hand instruments for sale. Taking this as a good sign, he walked over to the till ready to pay and gasped looking at the boy behind the counter.

The boy was staring right back at him, his pretty blue eyes underneath a choppy caramel fringe that fell over his eyebrows. He was quite a bit shorter than Harry was but he still looked like he was probably a few years older – maybe it was the tattoos. Maybe he should have worn those damn flowers in his hair, like Niall had suggested, because maybe then he’d stand a chance with this boy in front of him because my God he was stunning.

Breaking eye contact with him, the boy scanned the code on the back of the strings and after the bleep he looked up smiling at Harry.

“That’ll be £7.99 please, love.” The boy – Louis as his name tag read – extended his hand with a smile.

Harry fished his hand around in his back pocket, pulling out a handful of change before counting it out onto Louis’ hand, where he’d the later with a fond smile on his face every time he looked up. Grinning self-consciously as Louis counted the coins and putting them into the till, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes trail up and down his body biting his bottom lip as he took in the curve of the other boys bum. Because _yum_.

And Harry realises he’s probably going to be coming into the shop a hell of a lot more because he’s certainly a bit gone for this boy.

“Enjoying the view?” Louis asked cheekily, handing over the bag.

Crap. “I er well you see…”

“Only joking,” and Harry thought he might have heard him mumble something like ‘because I certainly was’ so it was safe to say he was definitely blushing.

Harry was about to leave then remembered the posters and could see Liam’s face if he didn’t ask so, as embarrassed as he was about being caught ogling, he tugged them out of his satchel. “Is it okay if I leave a few of these?”

Louis cocked an eyebrow, eyes scanning across the text, “Yeah. So you’re in a band then….?” He trailed off, looking up at Harry.

“Harry, Harry Styles.”

“Louis. Tomlinson.” And Harry smiled because the name suited him very nicely.

“So Harry Styles is in a band then?” Louis smirked.

Harry nodded and told him that they were called ‘Kite Bandit’, he thinks maybe it sounds a bit stupid now because they came up with it when they were younger but Louis says it sounds cool, better than half the amateur bands out there.

“Looking for a bassist…you know I might know a guy who’d like to try out for that.” Louis turned the sheet of paper round, pointing to the relevant part.

Harry felt his eyes light up a bit, “Yeah? Because Liam’s really concerned that we don’t sound quite right without a bassist and the rest of us agree. We’ve been looking for ages, no-one’s really been right yet, you know?”

Humming, Louis smiled. “Yeah I know, you just want to find someone who fits, like, seamlessly with your sound.”

They talk for a bit more about music and Harry kind of knows that now Louis is sort of a bit perfect. He just understands how Harry feels about his music and that’s something rare and special that Harry thinks that he probably won’t find again, so yeah he probably will be spending a lot more time here if it means that he gets to spend time with Louis.

It’s nice to meet someone who just _gets_ you so well that you find yourself feeling like you’ve known them for a lot longer than – holy shit is that the time? – three hours. Three hours? How had it been that long, he’d only come in for guitar strings?

“I better get off now; I start work in half an hour and I have to have a shower before I go.” Harry smiled a little sadly, noticing how Louis’ face fell.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” Louis enquired.

Nodding, Harry turned to leave because he would undoubtedly be coming back sometime soon even if he had to make up some stupid excuse just to see Louis again.

“Harry? Before you go,” Louis pointed to the number at the bottom of one of the leaflets. “Is this er your number?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He winked, sending Harry all of a quiver. Jesus – that should be illegal.

Feeling himself getting a bit flustered, Harry muttered out a quick goodbye and rushed out of the shop, his heart began beating just a little bit faster than it should have been. The boys weren’t going to let him forget it when they found out about his little crush, because they were bound to ask and he knew that he was going to blush and wouldn’t be able to keep a little smile of his face remembering Louis.

God, and he only came in for strings!

-:-     

It was the day they’d set aside for the auditions for the bassists but none of the lads were really that enthused about spending their day listening to a few gangly teens and some older guys who were, if truth be told, past it. Liam was the only one who seemed even remotely interested in the auditions. He’d gone to get some breakfast for the others and that left Harry, Niall and Zayn in the pub messing about until he came back.

Harry was checking his guitar, making sure it was tuned before he’d need to lay alongside whichever bassists came in, but could see Niall and Zayn both lying on the stage with their knees in the air, a bit too close for people who were ‘just friends Harry, Jesus mate, me and Zayn…it isn’t like that’.

Even though his flatmate had an on/off relationship with his left hand and professed his love for food, beer and women (in that order), Harry thinks that the blonde boy is maybe a little bit less than straight for their keyboard player – who would’ve called it? And he was more than convinced that the reason Zayn never went home with any of the girls (or guys) that threw themselves at him when they went out clubbing was because the tanned boy was already too far gone with a certain Irishman.

But whether or not they were ever going to happen was not at the top of Harry’s priority list at the minute. Getting to know Louis (or getting in his pants) was the top of the list, second was finding a bassist and the final thing on the list was making sure Niall and Zayn got their shit together.

Liam comes back not long after, arms full of food, and they all eat and maybe they liberate a few more drinks and maybe Liam scolds them. Again. They’ve had one or two people calling them saying that they’ll be along for audition but normally a few more just turn up with their guitars and a song to play who have never heard their music before.

 

It’s coming up towards the end of the day, before Paul wants to open up, and Harry’s in despair. It seems like they’ll never find the right person and they should just quit whilst they’re ahead because they should probably spend the hours they waste auditioning actually practicing a new song.

They had six people come in. The first two or three weren’t great, and they didn’t even play with the band because there just wasn’t any point to it because Harry knew they weren’t right. The fourth was a hippie type, he was nice enough maybe even a bit cool, and stoned. Liam didn’t approve so he got turned away before he could even start, shouting ‘c’mon man, the tiger thinks I’ll be good’, and Harry can barely hold in a giggle when he sees Liam’s face flushed with anger. The last two were okay playing on their own but they didn’t suite the band; one couldn’t take direction and the other flat out admitted he didn’t like the song they were playing.

In short, none of them had the chemistry they needed to be in the band.

They’d just started packing up when Harry heard some footsteps come rushing through the door and someone breathing heavily. He doesn’t bother looking round, not really in the mood to talk to anyone after such a disappointing day, and decides to let one of the others deal with it.

“You alright mate?” he hears Niall ask.

“Yeah,” and Harry knows that voice. “I’ve uh come for the auditions but you guys have obviously finished…so don’t worry. It’s my own fault for being late - this is why I need a watch.”

He turns round, feeling his heart start to bounce about because he knows who that is, and beams when he sees Louis standing there holding a guitar case with his hair all mussed from the wind, his scarf barely hanging on around his neck.

“Louis,” Harry starts talking before he can stop himself. “You never said you played.”

Louis sorts his fringe out and Harry thinks that he’d like to run his hands through his fringe and maybe other parts too. “Wanted it to be a surprised but I’ve sort of fucked that up now.”

“Nah, it’s okay. We’re nowhere near packed up yet and we really do need that bassist.” He’s smiling again and doesn’t care even though he can feel the eyes of his band mates on him.

“Hang on,” Zayn asked, gesturing between them, “Are we missing something here?”

Louis smiles and Harry likes it, wants it even. “I work at the music shop. Harry here kept me from working all day with music talk and tea.”

Zayn and Niall share a knowing look – maybe a bit too knowing, if you catch Harry’s drift – and Liam shrugs like he thinks Harry’s made a good choice in people to moon after. They all introduce themselves and Louis tells them politely that he knows and he likes the stuff they’ve put on You Tube and Harry feels a bit self-conscious because Louis’ seen him singing and likes it.

“Great then, glad to hear it Lou.” Niall beams, “D’you wanna play something for us?”

Louis nods and Harry hops up onto the bar and settles down ready to listen to the older boy play. Normally he’d be gritting his teeth about now, worried about what he was about to hear, but he kind of knows that Louis’ll be great and he isn’t wrong.

Louis plugs in his amp, and sends Harry a cheeky smile, before he starts to play and Harry thinks that Louis is exactly what he – the band – needs. He just watches as the bassist gets lost in the music and Harry can relate, his heart beating quickly because he thinks maybe he’s found his soul mate. The music flows around the room and Harry sees the other boys smiling widely and nodding their heads in approval because this is going well and maybe if Louis sounds good with them then Harry can spend a lot more time with him and focus on priority number one.

Then, before Harry knows it, they’re all playing together and its perfect. They’ve got the bass line that they needed and Louis can read what Harry and the boys are about to do and reacts with a riff or a different note to the sheet propped up in front of him. It kinds of sounds like Louis already knows the song and Harry doesn’t want to get his hopes up thinking that Louis learnt it for him but there’s a small part of him that thinks its most definitely the case.

As he’s singing, trying to keep his eyes from staring at Louis the whole time, he sees the look of the other boys faces being reflected in the glass behind the bar and they’re all smiling still, so that’s a good sign. He bites his lip as it gets to the guitar solos and catches Louis’ eye, the older boy smirking with delight.

As soon as the song came to a close, Liam nodded towards the others and told Louis that he was in as long as he wanted to join. He did so they swapped numbers and said Niall told him that they’d text him the schedule for the next few practices and, if it all went well, Louis could join them for the next gig.

“Sound brilliant. Thanks lads.” Louis beams and he’s about to go before Harry catches his arm.

Giving Louis a small smile he cleared his throat. “Do you er maybe want to um come round mine tonight so we can get to know each other a bit better?” He could hear the boys trying not to laugh as he tripped over his words and he made a vow to himself to kill them at a later date. “Niall’ll be there too an-”

“Actually, I’m going to Zayn’s tonight so you’ll have the place to yourselves.” And Niall gave him, what could be classified as, a shit eating grin and a suggestive body wiggle so Harry thanked whatever higher power there might be that Louis can’t see him.

“Oh.”

“That’s alright Haz,” hmm yes, Harry liked the way the nickname rolled off Louis’ tongue, “I’m sure we’ll still have fun, just the two of us.”

Niall had to excuse himself at this point muttering something like ‘I bet you will’, but Harry could still here him cackling even when he was stood outside.

-:-

“It’s not much but it’s home.” Harry pushed open the door to his flat, thanking himself for tidying up before he left earlier. “It needs just about everything.”

“I like it though,” Louis smiled, hovering in the doorway his eyes searching the room. He took a few steps in and then flopped down on the sofa. “Either way I bet you like a thousand teen girls would be jealous if they knew I was in Harry Styles’ actual flat.”

Harry smirked, blushing before fixing his hair to hide the colouration on his cheeks. “Shut up. Do you uh want a beer or anything?”

Before answering Louis let his head tilt to the side and it was so cute that Harry thought he might have died just a little bit because it was just adorable. “I couldn’t trouble you for a cup of tea could I? I’m a bit of an old man at heart you see, young Harold.”

“Uh yeah, sure.” Harry nodded, trundling over into their kitchenette and filling up the kettle. “Niall and I aren’t really big tea drinkers but I’ve probably got a few tea bags lying around somewhere.”

“So are you and Niall er…?” he trailed off.

“Dating? Oh God no, I mean sure I love him and all but it’s so not like that. He’s more inclined towards pianists to be perfectly honest with you.”

Louis dipped his head indicating that he knew what Harry meant and as he did so his caramel coloured fringe flopped down over his eyes. Even though Harry was across the room, he wanted to reach out with his hand and tuck the strand of hair behind Louis’ ear and then maybe –

Oh the kettle had boiled. So Harry poured out the water and stirred the teabags around before asking, “D’you take sugar?”

“Two please, love.” And Harry liked how that sounded and a small smile crept onto his face as he added the sugars and then made his way over to the sofas, handing Louis his mug, and sat down, tucking his legs up underneath himself.

After sitting for a while, drinking their teas in a comfortable silence, Louis asked Harry what he wanted to know about and they ended up learning all sorts about the other. They found out they each had sisters, some more than others and Harry couldn’t get his head around how Louis coped with four sisters because he could barely deal with the one he had. They both loved their mums and that was something Harry could appreciate because Anne meant the world to him, she really did – he didn’t know what he’d do without you, and hearing the way Louis talked about Jay melted his heart a little.

After a few more teas, Harry had managed to find the tea bags he kept for when his mum visited, and offering to show Louis a few of their songs because he’d need to get to know them before the weekend – which wasn’t needed because ‘I’ve checked ‘em all out already Haz, some really good stuff you got there – did you write it yourself?’ and he blushed because ‘Yeah, I do actually but the er boys help with the music I just do the words.’ And then ‘The words are the best bits Harry, they’re the part that actually means something, and the way you write is, just well, magical.”

That rouge tint was back lining Harry’s cheek bones and he muttered a quick thank you to the older boy before asking him why he worked in the music shop instead of going to University.

“I could ask you the same question, but we’d probably give the same answer. School was never really for me – it just wasn’t what I wanted, you know – and Uni certainly wasn’t how I expected, so I kind of dropped out after the first term and my mate, Stan, his dad owns the shop and let me work there because it was the closest thing to the music career I wanted available.”

And Harry knew how that felt. Before Paul had given them the time slot at the pub Kite Bandit were about to give up and Harry had even started applying to a few universities to study law (of all things). This was quite possibly the worst possible scenario but Harry reckoned that he might as well have something to fall back on if all else failed – but clearly he’d much rather be playing out to crowds, singing along to the music that his friends were producing, than sitting up in some sort of office pouring over documents until he needed glasses by the time he reached his mid-thirties (and that was a thought too horrendous to even bear thinking about).

“Yeah? I get it though, I never would have stuck it out if I’d actually gone, and it wasn’t really for me either.” Louis smiled then, acknowledging the statement, but soon had to stifle a yawn because was that really the time already?

“It’s getting late.”

Louis hummed, not making a move to get up or anything.

“Do you er want to stay over? Like, I mean you don’t have to but I er…it’s getting late.” He stammered, awkwardly wringing his hands between his legs.

Smirking, “You said that already.” And Harry realises that he’s quite possibly the most ridiculous person ever because it’s really not that hard to string a few _different_ words together. “But, yeah, if that’s okay. I don’t really fancy walking home in the dark anyhow.”

“You can have my bed, I’ll go set it up for you now, and I’ll sort you out a change of clothes or something.” Harry muttered, running his hand along his neck as he stood up.

“Well if I’m in your bed, where are you going to sleep?”

“I was um gonna sleep here,” he pointed to the sofa, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t be stupid, Haz, we’ll just share the bed.”

That’s when Harry thought he might be having a stroke (and, no, not in that way…but give him time). This gorgeous boy sat in front of him was practically ordering Harry into bed and that was not something that someone should pass up even with the blush of a seven year old caught stealing from the cake tin in the kitchen (and Harry’s speaking from experience there). So it was safe to say he was getting a bit flustered.

Inclining for Louis to follow him towards his bedroom, Harry felt his heart beating erratically as they made their way down the relatively small hallway. If the rest of the lads found out about this then Harry figures that he’ll never hear the end of this. But on the other hand, maybe if they start on him Harry could maybe perhaps bring something up about guitars and keyboards…and, yeah, Harry is certainly not above blackmail.

“Your room’s nice, spacey and homey.” Louis almost whispered, peering at one of the framed photos on Harry’s bedside table, as he sat on the corner of the bed. Harry saw that it was the picture he’s taken with his mum and sister before Gemma went off for a gap year in the States and smiled fondly, wondering if Louis’ missed his sisters as much as Harry missed his – not that he’d ever admit to it.

It was Harry’s turn to smirk, “Spacey and homey, eh?”

“Hmm.” Louis replied as if that was a thing people actually said.

Turning round, Harry rummaged through his draws and pulled out a pair of grey jogging bottoms – the ones he’d managed to shrink in the wash because he thought they might be a better fit for the smaller boy – and his black Ramones t-shirt. He handed them over with a small smile and watched as Louis, with no shame, stripped down right in front of him and if he hadn’t had a stroke before then he was now (again, not in _that_ way).

Trying, with no avail, to look away, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes trail over the exposed skin as Louis lifted up the shirt he was wearing and pulled it over his head, it dropping on the floor behind him. Gulp. Then Louis turned round to pick up the other top and Harry had to tear his eyes away quickly to avoid being caught staring. Instead he just took to looking at the band posters on his wall until Louis coughed letting him know that he was done changing.

It was safe to say that when Harry turned around and saw Louis stood there, all _tiny_ and enveloped up in his clothes that were much too big for him, he wasn’t just the boy who was sometimes caught wearing flowers in his hair (and this was before the girl hit him in the balls with the flower crown) because he liked the smell and the way they looked tucked up in his curls, he was also the boy who liked men who had tattoos and smaller people that he can take care of. And Louis, all small and vulnerable looking in the clothes that literally hung off his body, was probably the most wonderful thing that Harry had seen. Ever.

But when he woke up in the morning – after whispering ‘goodnight’ to Louis after they both slid under the covers and snuggled up closer together for warmth – he realised that he was quite possibly wrong the night before when he said that Louis in his clothes was the most wonderful thing that he’d seen because Louis - hair ruffled from sleep, limbs tangled up with Harry’s and skin looking flawless in the light filtering in from that, normally god forsaken, crack in the curtain which usually woke Harry up – in the morning still half asleep was the most wonderful thing he’d seen. If he wasn’t monumentally screwed beforehand (which he was) then Harry realised how utterly fucked he was now because maybe he was already a little bit in love with the new bassist that he’d only know for a few days.

-:-

Zayn had managed to line up another show for them, not at The Black Lamb but at this local student bar that none of them except Louis had heard of, and as they were all stood together playing as a band for the first time, all Harry could think was how lucky he was to be there because if he had to call it his job then this would be the best job in the world for him. Letting the lyrics slip skilfully off the end of his tongue, he tilted his head ever so slightly and caught a glimpse of Louis getting lost in the music and his heart started to do little backflips, manly backflips you understand, as he watched Louis look up and beam at how happy he was playing to the crowd – living his dream.

There was a decent sized crowd tonight, Harry thought as he heard Liam change up the beat as they started one of their newer songs, and in the sea of faces he saw a few that are familiar and some newer people he hopes might come and see them again. They’ve been getting a horde of new fans since they uploaded the video of Louis joining the band and their channel has received hundreds on new views since Louis’d squared it with his boss to put up adverts in the shop as long as when asked the band recommended his shop for all their music needs. And Harry thinks this is probably worth it considering the growth in popularity could cause a growth in sales when they eventually release their EP.

“You’ve been a great crowd tonight –” Harry began as Niall and Louis played the last few chords bringing the final song of their set to a close.

“Thanks guys, we’ve been Kite Bandit and don’t forget to check us out on YouTube.” Niall chirped, nudging Harry over to reach the mic stand and grinning as the audience cheered.

Making their way off the stage Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to be met with Louis’ beaming face and a kiss on his cheek. “You did great tonight mate.”

Despite the butterflies in his stomach Harry knew that was just something that Louis did, but it was starting to become a more regular occurrence. The older boy was always so tactile with all his friends not just Harry, but even the other lads had begun to comment on it when Louis wasn’t around. ‘You and Louis are awfully close’ Liam would say over a few beers, tone heavy with implicature, or Niall would comment in passing ‘Was Lou round again last night? I found one of his shirts in the washing earlier.’ And the worst was when Zayn had said, in front of them all at one of their practicing, ‘Hey Harry, who gave you that?’ pointing to the rather prominent love bite on his collar bone and Louis when had replied unabashedly that it was him Zayn just said ‘No surprises there then’.

“You too Lou, you know, those girls near the bar were going wild for you tonight!” Harry chuckled, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

Louis squirmed uneasily now that they’d reached the bar, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Great…” and then softer, almost too quiet for Harry to hear “if I was actually in to girls.”

They’d never actually discussed sexuality or anything, not that it was a big deal to Harry because as far as he was concerned you could love who you want as long as you were happy, and Harry sort of assumed that Louis knew he was gay but hearing that Louis was actually within his grasp sent a shiver down Harrys spine because Louis had all but said that he liked guys and last time Harry had checked he was certainly one of those.

The girl behind the bar, quite short with a shock of ginger hair and freckles like paint splatters on her cheeks, wandered over cleaning a glass before slinging the towel over her shoulder and leaning against the counter. “Brilliant set tonight lads, what can I get you superstars?”

“Pint of your best, love, but Harry here’s driving so he’ll have a coke thanks.” Louis sent her an award winning smile, patting Harry’s shoulder.

She nodded and went off to get their drinks, coming back shortly after and saying they were on the house and then disappeared off to the other end of the bar taking the orders of the students queuing up.

A few too many drinks later and Harry had already broken up a drunken fight between this guy and Niall – ‘For fucks sake Harry the cunt had it coming to him, hitting on Zayn like that, you should have lemme invite him outside.’ – and had to send him off in a taxi. Liam had called it a night a while back and had already gone back to his place, taking a fairly inebriated Zayn with him – ‘But _Li_ am, I wanna Niall again tonight I have something I wanna tell ‘im’ – so it was just Harry and Louis left at the bar now, Louis slurring his words a bit too much to be classed as entirely sober.

“C’mon Lou, let’s get you home eh?” Harry insisted, putting his arm around Louis’ neck and helping him out of the bar and into the fresh air of the car park outside.

“But Harry ’m cold! Take me back in there, warm inside.” Louis whined pretending to shiver a bit more than was strictly necessary.

Sighing, Harry pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Louis’ shoulders, rubbing his arms before turning around and fumbling with his car keys. “Better?”

“Love you Haz, m’knight in shiny band t-shirts.” Louis giggled, flopping against the side of the car.

-:-

“Lou, get out the car, we’re outside your house.” He ordered for, what seemed like, the thousandth time, trying to pull Louis out of the car.

Covering up the seatbelt clasp so Harry couldn’t undo it, Louis whined, “Don’t wanna go to _my_ house!”

Harry sighed, “Don’t play silly buggar’s with me Louis William Tomlinson.”

“Like it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Jesus Christ Lou, get out of the bloody car right now or I swear to God!” Harry scowled.

“I’ll get out the car if you take me to _your_ house.” And there was that mischievous glint in his blue eyes that made Harry’s knees turn to jelly.

“Urgh! Fine”

-:-

This was the second time that they woke up next to each other, just the two of them intertwined up in Harry’s bed, and it was becoming too regular an occurrence for Harry to handle. Once was enough for his poor heart but a second time was taking the proverbial biscuit. This time, though, Harry wasn’t the first person to wake up and looking up, emerald eyes still heavy with sleep, he saw Louis with a smug little smile on his face and yet again wearing one of Harry’s oversized shirts.

“Good morning Harold, enjoy your sleep did you?” he beamed, bouncing up and down in the bed.

“Are you still drunk?” Harry remarked. “You’re acting awfully strange for someone who isn’t a morning person.”

Smiling almost shyly, Louis retorted. “I think I’d be more of a morning person if I got to wake up to your more often.”

“Yes, you are most definitely still a bit drunk. Can I get you a tea before you scurry of to work,” he paused to look at the clock, “where you should be in approximately twenty minutes?”

He nodded, “Please.”

So Harry selflessly got out of bed, pulling the top sheet round his waist to hide his dignity – not that Louis hadn’t already seen it but well – and made his way into the kitchen.

“You know Harry, you really shouldn’t have morning sex with Louis when I’m still in the flat.” Niall cackled as Harry strolled into the living room.

“Jesus Niall! We weren’t having early morning sex – Louis’ just a bit excitable this morning.”

Niall smirked, chuckling slightly. “I bet he is.” So Harry threw the newly acquired box of teabags at the back of the other boys head.

A few minutes later Louis made his way out of Harrys bedroom, dressed back into his own clothes from the night before which were still smelling of alcohol, and Harry had to run his forefinger over his neck to get Niall to stay quiet. Draining his tea, Louis waltzed over to Harry and pecked him lightly on the corner of his mouth. He then proceeded to sashay his way to the door calling out a goodbye over his shoulder and went out to work.

“Mate, close your mouth before a fly gets in there. You are so whipped it’s kind of sickening really.”

“Hmm yeah I suppose I am, but at least I didn’t break Zayn’s keyboard just so I would have to go round to his and help him fix it…”

And that successfully shut him up.

-:-

For someone who normally berates the others for being late it was unusual for Liam not to be on time for their practising and he hadn’t even sent Harry so much as a text to let him know where he was. Harry wasn’t at all surprised that Zayn and Niall hadn’t shown up yet, but Louis being there before him was a turn up for the books.

“Morning Lou.” Harry chirped, jumping up to sit next to Louis on the edge of the stage.

“It’s the afternoon Harry, but hello.” He smiled, poking the dimples which had appeared on his cheeks. Then, almost as soon as Harry saw the playful gleam in Louis’ eye, he was being straddled and was under attack. Louis let his hands ghost over Harry’s ribs, tickling him within an inch of his life, extracting loud barks of laughter as Harry wriggled around underneath him. 

Trying the get out of Louis’ hold, Harry tried to use his weight to topple them over but despite his best efforts he stayed locked between Louis’ thighs. “For God’s sake Louis, what’s this in aid of?”

“I just like to hear you laugh, that’s all.” Louis smiled, leaning down closer to Harry’s face and letting his breath blow out in hot little bursts a bit close to Harrys lips for the younger boy to be able to function properly. “It’s one of my favourite things.”

“One of your favourite things?”

Louis let a slow rumble of laughter escape before answering, “Hmm. My other favourite things are about you too like your curls – especially when you put flowers in them like you did for the last gig at Paul’s, it was hot, those pretty eyes of yours and the way that you sing and get so lost in the music that it’s like it’s the only way you can convey what you’re thinking. But my absolute favourite thing about you Harry,” at some point when he was talking his face had gotten extraordinarily close to his own, and if Harry moved just a little bit then they would be kissing “is waking up next to you in the morning.”

Just when they were about to kiss – Harry was sure they would – a red faced Liam burst in. “Sorry I’m late, the bus was late and then I left my bloody phone at ho- Oh sorry…I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Harry almost let out a moan when he felt Louis shift his weight off of him and scurry off to plug his bass into the amp.

“That’s okay Li, nothing to interrupt, Zayn and Niall still haven’t shown up so what d’you want to do?” Louis remarked.

Liam shrugged and pulled out his sticks, taking his place behind the drum kit. “I think Harry finished that new song so d’you wanna have a quick mess around before the other get here and try and work something out?”

Louis nodded. “That okay with you Haz?”

“Sure, let me dig it out and we’ll get started.” Harry may have seemed calm on the outside but inside he was panicking. The new song that he’d told Liam about wasn’t just any old song, it was a song that he’d written about his new feelings for Louis, and he was starting to worry that it would be so transparent when he began to sing that Louis wouldn’t want to speak to him anymore.

Once he’d found his notebook and the sheet music he’d been working on, he handed a sheet to each of them and left copies next to the keyboard and Niall’s amp.

“It’s still a little bit rough around the edges, so if it doesn’t quite read right then yeah…”

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Haz, all the others are.” Louis smiled with encouragement and Liam nodded, signalling his agreement.

Harry picked up his guitar and began to strum out the opening of the song, his fingers moving deftly over the strings.

“The end of the night, we should say goodbye.  But we carry on while everyone’s gone.”

Then Liam and Louis started to play filling in the gaps left by Harry’s guitar. It didn’t sound quite right but he supposed that as soon as Zayn and Niall showed up then it would start sounding more like he wanted it to.

“Never felt like this before; are we friends or are we more? As I’m walking towards the door…I’m not sure” Harry had to make a concerted effort not to look in Louis’ direction as he sang out the words, clutching at the microphone whilst letting his guitar hang by the strap.

“But baby if you say you want me to stay, I’ll change my mind.” Harry smiled through the words as he heard a commotion in the cloakroom before Niall and Zayn burst in.

“Sorry we’re late.” Zayn mumbled, putting his bag down and taking his place up behind the keyboard. Before starting to play he picked up the sheet of music and let his eyes scan across it. “If this is the music for the song you were just singing, then it sounds great already.”

Harry blushed, “Thanks Zayn. That’s all I’ve got finished off so far.”

Niall plucked away at his guitar getting a feel for the song, humming along to the beat. “The end of the night…do you want to go over it again with Zayn and I?”

Then they started to play all together, once Niall and Zayn had got into position, and Harry realised that he was right about it sounding better with all of them there once he heard the instruments blend together. It was sounding great already and he thought that if they could get it polished off by the weekend they could possibly add it onto their Saturday night set at The Black Lamb.

-:-

They were all on their third beer by now, maybe Niall had had a few more, and the radio was blaring out that week’s charted songs throughout Liam’s house. His parents were away for the weekend so he’d invited the lads round for a drink and to make a new video telling their small following about the new songs and that there was going to be a vote on which songs would appear on the EP. Harry was currently thrashing Zayn at Fifa, even though his heart was only half in it, trying not to get distracted by Louis and Niall squabbling over what toppings they wanted on the pizza while Liam chased about after them, tidying the mess the pair left in their wake.

After the pizza arrived, and a considerable amount of beer cans had been emptied – Harry suspects that Niall was responsible for most of them – Liam had insisted on watching a film, a Disney one, but had soon passed out about half an hour into it. He was soon followed by a sleepy Niall who had collapsed on a bean bag in front of the television, a bowl of Doritos balanced on his stomach, and Zayn who managed to nod off in Liam’s dad’s arm chair.

Harry was curled up with Louis (surprise, 

surprise) on the sofa, both squashed up on one end cuddled up together even though there was plenty of room for them to have been more spread out and it struck Harry as odd that as two people who had only known each other for a few weeks would normally be. Neither of them were really paying that much attention to the brightly coloured film still playing on the television but they were just talking. They were talking with their faces rather close together to be entirely platonic.

“So Harold dearest, what does a fellow have to do to get a kiss around here?” Louis mumbled out of the blue, playing with one of Harry’s curls that were poking out underneath the grey beanie that was resting atop his head.

“Absolutely nothing,” Harry sniggered, using his hand to swipe a bit of Louis’ fringe from over his eye. He let his eyes linger over Louis as the other boy gazed back at him; something other than his cheeky expression written across his face.

"Harry," Louis whispered his lips mere inches from Harry’s own and the warmth of the other boys breath made Harry shiver a little with delight. A rush of heat started burning in his chest and slowly began to spread throughout his whole body. He could feel Louis’ eyes watching his every move as he bit his lip, from the slight twitch of his eyebrow in curiosity to the way that Harry’s shoulders rose and fell as he slowly breathed in and out.

Leaning forward slowly, his hand brushed the hair out of Louis’ face, tucking it behind his ear, and in an instant their lips were together and Harry thought he might explode because this was what he’d been waiting for. Louis’ lips weren’t like any of the other people he kissed (admittedly it wasn’t very many) and they smooth and tasted a bit of beer, in short; they were perfect. It was soft and a bit hesitant and everything Harry had wanted it to be…until Louis pulled back, disconnecting their lips, and Harry let out a low moan at the loss of contact.

“Harry, I don’t think it should be like this…I mean I know I started it, asked you to kiss me, but well…it’s not right, I just don’t want to take advantage of you whilst you’re drunk. Whilst we’re both not thinking straight, you know.”

Harry smirked, “You do realise I’m not even that drunk don’t you?”

“You’re not?” Louis queried eyes full of hope and face all innocent and pretty.

“Um no, I only had three beers. Didn’t even finish the third.”

“Neither am I.” Louis chuckled, then leant forwards and slowly reconnected their lips.

It wasn’t a kiss to last a life time, which made the stars form into new constellations overhead (not that Harry believes in that stuff or anything) but it was soft and sweet and what Harry needed at the time. Being with Louis – if he would have him – wasn’t something that Harry wanted to rush. He wanted to take his time to get to know the other boy, explore him and love him and for it to _mean_ something. He thought, even then, that Louis was well on his way to becoming Harry’s epic love and that suited him rather nicely because after all Harry liked boys with tattoos and crystal clear blue eyes and little bits of stubble who were smaller than he was.

So when they wake up with each other for the third time, it’s different to the first two because the dynamic has changed. There’s something in the air between them now because neither is really sure how to react around the other after what had happened last night, but there was still some electricity humming around them. Harry had felt rather bashful when he woke up to the sounds of Liam making the others breakfast and Louis splayed out on top of him, his head buried in the crook of Harry’s neck with his breath tickling the curls at the nape. And Harry sort of liked the added weight and the closeness of the other boy even though he could hear the jeers of the other boys from the kitchen – all ‘about time’s and ‘I knew it’.

“Morning Sunshine,” he heard Louis mumble in his ear, his lips catching the lobe and Harry thought that it probably wasn’t an accident. “Mmm, your hair smells of apples. I like it.”

“Good because it would be a little awkward if you didn’t considering last night.” Harry winked cheekily, trailing his hand up the other boys arm, rather pleased with himself when he heard Louis’ breath hitch.

Then it was Louis’ turn to look bashful, the tips of his ears turning pink and his sharp cheek bones colouring as he bit his lip. It looked like he might say something but then they were interrupted by a clatter in the kitchen.

“D’you guys want breakfast? Or a drink?” Liam called and Harry turned to see the drummer wearing an apron – presumably his mum’s but Harry couldn’t be sure – and holding a frying pan but before he could answer Louis muttered something about getting a coffee and they were out the door before either could say another word.

From Liam’s house it didn’t take long to get to the coffee shop, it was a small little building with mix-matched furniture and Harry thought that it was kind of the perfect place for new beginnings, and the walk did a good job of waking them both up. They walked close together, hands occasionally brushing as they made their way along the pavement, and Harry didn’t think it could get much better than this.

Somewhere along the short walk Harry could have sworn that he heard Louis humming the tune to his new song and remembered how he’d said that waking up next to Harry made him more of a morning person – it warmed Harry’s heart a little bit as he thought that maybe it was true because Louis’ smile spread from ear to ear.

Like the shop Louis worked in, the bell rang as they pushed the glass door open and the smell of coffee, all rich and earthy, filled their nostrils. Harry could hear the clatter of cups, the waft of steam coming from one of the coffee machines and the chatter of the other customers as they took their place in the cue. It was warm, Harry noticed, a nice break from the wind that was still frosty outside and it was really ludicrous that the weather hadn’t improved because it was now officially summer.

The line soon went down, the smell of the various syrups wafting towards him as people walked by, and Harry let his eyes skim over the menu as he tried to decide which drink that he might want.

“Good morning. What can I get you guys?” the female barista asked, wiping the counter before placing two disposable cups there.

Smiling at her, Louis replied, “A Gingerbread Latte and a…Harry what do you want love?”

“Hmm just a black coffee with two sugars thanks.” Harry requested, going for his fail safe.

She nodded, turning around to make the drinks and Harry looked over to Louis with a smile. Normally he would’ve been embarrassed that he was caught staring but in this case he was only caught because Louis was already staring when Harry turned to look at him. They shared a small smile and Harry thought he might be the luckiest guy out there because my god Louis was beautiful.

The barista returned with their drinks, “That’ll be £4.65 please.”

Harry went to get out some cash from his pocket but, before he could, Louis placed his hand over Harry’s and handed the girl a crinkled five pound note. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw coo and give them an affectionate glance.

“That’s 35p change and your receipt,” she said, handing Louis the change. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, you guys make such a cute couple.”

Harry was about to say something to the contrary – he really was - when Louis just took his hand with a huge grin on his face and told her, “Thank you, I’m so lucky to have him.”

Harry felt the butterflies swarming up in his stomach and his heart felt like it was singing at the unusual contact between them as they walked out of the shop and back out into the cool air. Even after their kiss and waking up next to each other, harry thought that this might very well be his new favourite thing to do; to hold Louis’ hand.

-:-

They performed Harry’s song at their next gig and the crowd were phenomenal even in the pub, taking to it really well and screaming for more once the set had come to a close. It was a few days since the boys had stayed at Liam’s and Harry and Louis hadn’t really talked about what had happened yet, much to Harry’s annoyance. When he was singing, as much as he loved it – never getting tired of the feeling that people singing out your lyrics back to you, all he could think about was the feel of Louis’ lips on his and how the blending of the bass line and his vocals went hand in hand, rather similar to Harry’s new favourite thing.

But now that they were packing up and Niall was already lining up the pints at the bar, people still milling about the pub in the half hour before closing, Harry found it difficult not to just confront Louis and ask him what the hell was going on. It’s not even like Louis had been avoiding him, the topic just hadn’t come up and as much as Harry wanted to bring it up, to say _something_ , he simply couldn’t bring himself to in case it made Louis uncomfortable. But tonight, still high on the adrenaline from the performance, Harry decided that he had to talk to Louis before he imploded.

“Hey Lou, can I talk to you for a second?” Harry asked, pulling Louis aside and leading him into the cloakroom.

Looking up from under his fringe in a way that should be illegal before having a serious discussion, “Of course you can anything for you my dear Harold.”

He took a little while trying to formulate what he was about to say before speaking, and the encouraging little look Louis shot him roused him into action. “It’s about what happened the other day. Why did you let that girl think we were a couple?””

“Oh, I just didn’t want to embarrass her. If I thought you wouldn’t be okay with it then I wouldn’t have said anything, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything Haz.”

“You didn’t,” Harry blurted, rubbing his neck in the way that he did when he was nervous. “It’s not that I minded, not in that sort of way anyway, but what if I said that maybe I erm liked the idea? I know we haven’t exactly talked about who we like – I mean I don’t even know for sure if you’re gay or not – but…”

He was stopped by Louis bringing a finger up to his lips, silencing him, and laughing to himself. “Harry, love, do you somehow manage to not see how I act around you, how close I am to you after we’ve only known each other for such a short while and how completely and utterly besotted with you that I am?”

“Well I um didn’t think that is to say…I just thought that you were being friendly?” he offered, still managing to make a mess of his words, and suddenly realised how close that Louis was standing. Closer than they were before, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Louis extended his hand to pull at one of Harry’s curls.

“God! You can be so dense. Didn’t you notice that all of my favourite things were about you?”

Instead of answering the question Harry surged forward connecting their lips again, this time a bit more urgent as he hugged Louis into his 

chest. Time felt like it was standing still as Louis’ lips began to move against Harry’s and it made him forget everything else that had happened that night and his own name. Like the time before, Louis’ lips were soft and this time they tasted minty as they both smiled into the kiss. Harry felt Louis’ hands creep up from their position on his neck and up into his curls, pulling them slightly eliciting a moan from the taller boy.

The way Louis kissed was soft yet still urgent and their lips moved together easily, like they were made for the other and Harry thought that maybe they were because he was a soppy bugger like that. Harry just went with it and kept a firm grip on Louis’ small waste, enjoying the difference in their heights because it meant that he could easily wrap the smaller boy up in his arms and protect him, not that he looked like he needed protecting with all the tattoos and good looks. But still.

Pulling away and leaning their foreheads together, Harry saw the smile on Louis’ face and the stunning cerulean pair of eyes locked with his own.

“So do you know what my favourite things are Lou?”

The other boy shook his head shyly, suddenly becoming timid as he flicked his head letting his fringe fall away from his eyes.

“All the things that I do with you.”

And maybe Harry used to only be able to speak through his music, through the lyrics he spent hours creating, because that was how he had always expressed himself in the past, but maybe now he could try to express what he wanted in a much better way through their next kiss because Harry thinks that it’s a much nicer, more enjoyable, way of letting Louis know how he feels. 


End file.
